Erica

I am a house.

Inside a labyrinth.

Red brick walls
Cement sticks.
I know my way
I made the pattern exclusively.
Though to say; with these patterns
I saw, I seen and I’ve been present,
Sometimes to my fault of lost.
Made so thick, so crimson-
A hint of a noir soul
A hint unhinged
But, her naturally haunting beauty remains.
When the day remained to be at its will,
Filled with strength?
Her walls-
 collapsed.

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